High-functioning sociopath A post-Reichenbach-fanfiction
by IBelieveInMyDoctor
Summary: Molly s life is not easy at all. To be honest it s the most dificult and devastating time of her life right now. She needs to lie to everyone around her just to keep Sherlock s disguise perfectly safe. She is not sure if she can deal with a depressed Greg Lestrade and Sherlock Holmes at the same time.
1. I won t let you fall

**You never gonna be alone**

**From this moment on**

**If you ever feel like letting it go**

**I won´t let you fall**

Never gonna be alone-Nickelback

_How can a person who is so clever just not notice what is going on around him? How can such a person not be aware of the thrilling tension I feel in every room that we´re in together? But…well…maybe it is better the way it is now. I just don´t know how he would react if I just tell him that he is everything I need, everything it is worth to live for and everything I long for every day and every night. I love him and I don´t know why. But sometimes even I must ask myself if he is really _able_ to fell such things as love. If he is really human._

Molly looked confused at the few lines she had written. She had never been the writing-diary-entries-type of girl but these words had just slipped out of the pen in her hand without her really realizing. She had not even known that she could be able to have such…kitschy thoughts.

There was not much time left for any complaining about what was going on in her mind due to the fact that Sherlock Homes just came rushing in the morgue with a kind of surprised expression on his face..

"I thought you would be at home yet", said the man with this gorgeous black, curled hair instead of a greeting.

"Um…yes…I just wanted to finish the paperwork for the last body that came in a few hours ago" The pathologist did not waste any time and rumpled the paper right in front of her on the lab-table. She did not look at Sherlock but through the window of the morgue under which the table she had been working on stood.

"I am really happy that you are here right now. Otherwise I would have taken this little journey for nothing. Listen, I need your help", he said having a short look on the crunched paper she was throwing in the bin immediately. She did not want him to notice it but this was Sherlock Holmes and he noticed everything that happened around him. Molly swallowed as she tried to clear her throat. She was not sure if she would be able to speak, her voice highly affected by his words and the way he seemed to be staring right through her.

"Wait, Sherlock. If you thought, I won´t be here why would you come here to ask me for help?" she whispered not knowing how she should deal with this completely new situation. It just was too confusing, being alone with Sherlock in the middle of the night not having any clue what was going on right now.

A little smile spread over the lips of the consulting detective as her question ran through his mind. However, she could not read his face, she could not tell what was going on behind these cruel beautiful blue-grey eyes that looked down on her.

"I´ve been asking me this question since I entered the door of this hospital. I actually could have thought about that earlier, right? That is what you´re thinking right now. I can see it in your eyes. But I guess I was just too caught in my", he hesitated obviously not willing to reveal what was going on in his mind and Molly started to wonder what is was, what he had wanted to say. _Feelings? Sentiment? _Everything she could think of were not even little parts of what formed Sherlock Holmes´ character.

"In my thoughts", he then finished his sentence. He had come closer to her while she was holding her breath. She could not handle with his appearance when she was able to see every wrinkle in his face, every change in his mimic. She could not even answer, totally caught in his eyes, her breath trembling with fear about what he might say next.

Molly could see the doubt in his eyes. She could see that he was not sure if it was right to tell her about what was going on in his mind.

"I feel lonely, Molly, and I do not know what to do against it. Can you imagine that? The great Sherlock Holmes feels lonely. The man who has always been treated as a machine without feelings"

"What do you want?" interrupted Molly the stream of words that came out of Sherlock´s mouth. Somehow it frightened her to see the man of her dreams in this condition. But this would not avoid her from helping him, no matter what he would ask from her.

"Company. Your company."

Her heart stood still. She felt his warm breath in her face, on her cheekbones and on her lips. He was close enough for her to just grip his scarf, pull him down to her and kiss him. But she did neither of the things. Everything she could do seemed unsuitable to the situation and after all she had never been extroverted enough to take initiative.

"I…I don´t understand" she stammered.

"Oh, I think you understand very well. Come on, Molly. You are smart. You´ve always been and when I tell you that I need your company it should be obvious that I…" He paused. Molly just stood there, waiting for him to continue talking and breathing in the smell of his skin. She had never experienced Sherlock in a condition in which he got loss of words and she was not sure if this should frighten her or give her a feeling of being sort of special. Then he seemed to catch himself and this unreadable type of smile appeared on his face. If it had ever been possible for her to look in his mind in some way, now it was not.

"That I am trying to invite myself into your flat so we can spend some time together and won´t feel so lonely anymore."

That he had continued his sentence ripped her out of her thoughts and she needed some time to get back into reality. Therefore it took her some seconds to realize what he had actually said. She blushed immediately. Even if he certainly did not mean what most people would have read in his expression she could not help imagining how he pushes her against the wall of her flat and kisses her impulsively. She shook her head to get rid of this picture in her head that should definitely not be there at the time.

"Is this a `No`?", Sherlock asked sounding kind of surprised. Molly looked up to him, into these unbelievable grey-blue eyes that were able to force her to do everything- no matter if she had wanted to do it or not.

She began to stammer again. "No, that is not what I wanted to say…I just…Um, forget it, Sherlock. Of Course you can sleep with me…Um, I mean…in my flat. We can both sleep in my flat, yes." Her cheekbones had the colour of fresh tomatoes by now. She was not even able to look into Sherlock´s face anymore. This was so embarrassing that she just wanted to hide underneath one of the morgue-tables.

"Just breath, Molly" was everything Sherlock had as comment to her slip of the tongue. Then he turned away from her, so suddenly that she did not even really notice it until he began to talk again. "So you´ve finished here, haven´t you? Then I guess it is no problem for you to leave the morgue now and lead me to your flat."

The pathologist managed to catch her breath again.

"Yes…yes. We can go now." She tidied up the lab-table, put different papers together and took them into a casing_. _"I am ready to go"

She gripped her jacket from the seat and not more than five minutes later they both walked out of the main-entrance of St. Bartholomew´s Hospital.

About half an hour later Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper stood in front of her flat-door while the pathologist caught the keys out of her pocket and unlocked the door. She needed some time to do it because her hands were shaking with excitement so much. Why had she invited Sherlock to stay overnight with her? She had known that this was no good idea but she had not been able to resist the desire of being near to the man who now entered the room right after her so that he nearly bumped into her back as she stopped to take off her shoes. Fortunately he did not. Otherwise he possibly would have pushed her to the floor and what have followed then would have been more than embarrassing.

"Careful, Sherlock", Molly said while she took her shoes away and told the detective to do the same. She felt nervous and exited and tried to deal with this completely new situation. Of course she had had boyfriends and was used to have male persons in her flat but none of them would ever be able to compete with the great Sherlock Holmes and his mysterious, attracting appearance. Nothing had ever stopped her from loving this man and nothing could ever do so.

She had always adored him and now it was like an eternal dream that had come true. Her heart beat twice it´s normal speed and all she could think of was pretending that everything was alright.

Sherlock did not seem to notice anything. He took off his coat and his scarf and stood now in front of her in his suit with the trousers that suited him so well and underlined the sexiness of his body. Molly started to wonder if brain work could keep someone that fit. Or how on earth did he work out if he spent so much time in labs and solving crimes?

Well, actually he did, even if she could not judge the amount because he still wore his clothes and she had never seen him even half-naked. Even if she really would like to, apparently.

"You can sleep in my bed if you want to. I´ll take the sofa then", Molly offered to Sherlock

"Yes, thank you very much, Molly", he replied.

She would have left him the bed anyway, according to the fact that the sofa would have been too small for him. However, she had expected him to deny her offer, to insist on her sleeping in her own bed just to be polite. While he had been almost scarily different from normally before he now was Sherlock Holmes all over again. She exhaled and looked up to the black-haired. Her cheekbones flushed with a rose colour. She saw how he looked around in her small flat or actually in the kitchen which also functioned as living room with a sofa, an eating-table, three chairs and a kitchenette. It was cozy but only made for one person living there.

"Nice flat, Molly. Just as I expected it to be"

"Pardon?"

"I said…"

"I understood what you said. But how do you mean it? As you expected it?

"Well, you´re a 33-year-old woman, obviously single at the moment, working as pathologist. Your flat is small. You love it because it is cozy and you have lived here for a very long time. You´re romantic, Molly Hooper and so is your choice of your living-place.

Nevertheless you are a stuck-to-the-ground-person with an enormous sense of style, even if yours might not be liked by anyone. You are open-hearted and caring. You are well educated and eager for knowledge.

I could go on with this list but I think it´s enough and I don´t want to bring you into an embarrassing situation, I have apparently did this too many times before. Anyway, this flat mirrors nearly everything that is part of your character. Even your admiration for me."

Silence. Both of them were quiet, Molly once again deeply impressed by Sherlock´s brainwork, Sherlock looking directly into Molly´s face waiting for some kind of reaction. She could see so much in his eyes: The desperation to show off, the need of appreciation and applause and his lusting for understanding and acceptation. She did him the favor.

"Come on, Sherlock. I know, you want to. So, how did you figure out all these things?"

A smile spread over the detective´s face that warmed her hearth and touched her deeply. When he opened his mouth she managed to listen to both, his words and the soft, dark tone of his voice.

"As I said, your flat is small. Kitchen and living-room together. A bath and a sleeping-room which is very likely to be small, too. There is no floor. Knowing what you are working as I can tell that you could afford better. You don´t want to live somewhere else, but why? Obviously it has sentimental reasons. I just need to look on your bookshelf. I can see some folders with the emblem of the university you went to on it. Nobody would keep such things if he is changing a flat, especially when they look as used as yours. Again, you could afford new ones if you would like to. So you haven´t moved since you ended your studies.

Romantic, well. Your bookshelf, again. I can see some detective-stories but also some love-stories. Actually good ones as I assume by the authors´ names but nothing you could read if you weren´t romantic. Same thing to prove that you´re eager of knowledge. There are many medical books, of course, you´re a doctor yourself. Well educated, too. As I said. However, I can see some books that are not concerning your special profession so it´s just out of interest and curiosity. Hmm, what else do I see? Shakespeare anthology, Stephen Hawking- a short history of time, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe- biography- interesting, Molly, I didn´t know you speak German. Of course there is more but I guess you know your books better than I do so I don´t have to continue this list."

He paused to take a deep breath. Molly intended to say something but he cut her off before she opened her mouth.

"So, let´s go on. This is rather fun, Molly, I love you for asking me to explain my deductions to you." She turned red all over, he was hardly noticing.

"You´re stuck-to-the-ground. I just know that because I know you, Molly Hooper. Then your style. Even if it is some kind of mix-and-match-style all your clothes do apparently fit together and just because comfortable is more important to you than sexy doesn´t mean you´re not dressed beautiful. I know, many men would say so. I. do. not."

Did he just make her a compliment? Yes, he said, she was dressed beautiful. Her heart was near to skipping a beat. She could not help but smiled at him.

"Furthermore, the prospects at the kitchen-table. British Heart Foundation, cats rescue center, development assistance in South Africa. You do care for the people and the world around you. You believe in making the world a better place, don´t you? What else should you work as a forensic pathologist for?! Obviously not because you get off on more or less badly injured bodies. "

"Sherlock, you are embarrassing me", Molly interrupted. It was hard for her to speak, really hard. She wanted to turn away from this man who could deduce all her feelings, all her heart from one shivering of her body or one changing of her facial expression but she felt like caught at the spot she was standing at, unable to move or to say anything that would have made even Sherlock Holmes shut up. She enjoyed hearing his voice -and seeing his lips moving- too much.

"Shht, Molly, I am not done by now. There is one thing left. Even if I didn´t know them before, I would have been able to read your feelings for me in this room. First you yourself. You are wearing your hair parted on the side since I told you I like it more this way. Then there is the lipstick lying on the kitchen table. I guess you put it on before you went to work but that doesn´t really matter. What matters is the fact that it is the same colour you wore the day I first met John. This was a really long time ago so you must have re-bought it. I have no doubt why. At least there is the fact that you kept one of the papers with a picture of me on the front page. I can see it on your bookshelf, too. Half-covered by a book but date of publishing and the partly noticeable headline are very suggestive. So, God, this was a pleasure. It felt like my brain was rusting."

He turned to her and it seemed as he had just stepped back to reality. The woman in front of him was crying now, silent tears falling from her eyes over her red-coloured cheekbones as she tried not to sniffle.

"Molly, is everything alright?"

She did not answer. How on earth could this man make her go through so many emotions in less than 10 minutes? She felt naked, her soul unclothed by a person who never meant to do so and now, that she was at home, she did not even have the strength to hold back her tears. Bravo, Molly, she thought. Could she not just act normally when he was around?

"Sherlock" She found back her voice. "It´s no secret that you know everything about me just by having a short glance at my face but, please, stop making fun about me loving you." Molly was about to turn around, to go straight into her sleeping-room and leave the consulting detective alone. She did not. She could not even be angry about him for longer than a few seconds, knowing that this was just the way he was, that she should not expect him to be different just because she had lent him a hand to get out of a really problematic situation. Yet, being dead- only figuratively of course- could really change a man´s character and sometimes it seemed to her as she could sense a soft note of this change even in Sherlock´s behaviour. The behaviour of a self-appointed sociopath.

"I didn´t mean to make fun about your feelings, Molly. You saved my life, you helped me to outplay Moriarty. I owe you so much." His voice had turned very quiet as he leaned forward to her. She could feel the vibrato of his deep breath on her cheekbones. "You have always been nice to me, no matter how I treated you. You have never given me up. I need to thank you, Molly, even if I don´t know how to do this." A soft kiss on her cheekbone was what followed. This had somehow become a ritual to apologize for hurting her and even if she had had enough time to get used to that she shivered every time she felt his lips on her skin.

"So" She cleared her throat. "I guess you aren´t in the mood to sleep now, are you?"

"I´m definitely not. You now that the night has become my day since my jump from the hospital-roof." Of course it had. There was no other way he could ever go out to catch some fresh air. He was living in a flat bought in the name of Mr Mycroft Holmes- fortunately Moll had not been the only person Moriarty had forgotten when going through the list of persons that could help Sherlock when he had problems. Maybe this was because Jim Moriarty never had siblings and just did not understand their relationships. Even if they seem to hate each other there always was a connection between Sherlock and his older brother. She lightly shook her head. It was useless to think about this. Moriarty was apparently dead-even if nobody could be definitely sure- and Sherlock alive. That was what matters.

Molly wiped away her tears and managed to look up to Sherlock. "What about playing some chess, Sherlock?"

"How could I resist this offer?"


	2. Love is not that easy

**You´re the lonely**

**One and only**

**Body in the world**

**Who can make me**

**Who can break me**

**Down into a young girl**

**You say the love is not that easy**

**And that´s the lesson that you teach me**

Hypocrates-Marina and the Diamond

As Molly woke up she blinked with her eyes and then turned around to see at the normally left free part of her bed. She was lying next to Sherlock who was- eyes closed and a peaceful expression on his face- fast asleep. She smiled as she remembered what happened yesterday evening- or night, to be exactly.

After they had played a few rounds of chess of which Molly had lost every single one, they had both gone to bed. She had just changed into her sleeping-clothes when Sherlock had come out of her bedroom wearing nothing but his dark undershorts.

_"You can´t sleep on the sofa, Molly. You will sleep in your bed this night", he said rather enthusiastically._

_"But Sherlock", she replied. "The sofa is definitely too small for you."_

_"I know. But I don´t get why you should deny your bed if there is clearly enough space for both of us. So, come now, I can´t stand to be so cruel to you to forbid you to sleep in your bed."_

_"You´ve forbidden me nothing."_

_"Don´t complain, Molly!" And with these words he gripped her arm and pulled her away from the sofa into the sleeping-room._

The next thing she noticed was a fury, fluffy thing that had placed itself in the small space between her body and Sherlock´s: her cat.

"Jealous, hmm?", Molly asked and lied one arm around Toby, pulling him onto her chest and avoiding him of scratching the naked skin of her new 'bed-mate'. It had always been like that when Molly had brought one of her boyfriends to the flat. Until now Toby had never been able to accept one of the dates of the pathologist. She hoped this would be different with Sherlock even if he was not her boyfriend or her date or something like that.

She let her fingers run through the fur of her cat while she was thinking about the man that lied next to her, breathing deeply, a gentle smile spread over his face. He seemed to dream and Molly started to wonder what about.

It was hard to imagine what was going on in his mind when he was awake and even harder to think about anything that he could deal with in his dreams. She had always suffered when he had been around. However, she had never stopped wishing to be part of his life. Now she was nearly everything that he had got left and it broke her heart to see Sherlock in the condition this situation put him into. It was really hard for her to lie to John every time they saw each other, to say nothing about the consulting detective being alive, to see his heart die, every day without his best friend a bit more.

She sighed and got herself out of the bed, her cat complained with a moan and then made her way back under Molly´s blanket. She went into the kitchen and shut the door behind her. Molly really tried not to think about the man in her bed. Even if she concentrated on preparing breakfast Sherlock slipped into her mind every time she made twice the amount of something she would have in the morning.

Molly had just started to brew some coffee when she heard how the door to her sleeping-room was opened. She turned around just to see Sherlock dressed up in her own bathrobe.

"I am sorry, Molly, but this was the only thing I could find to cover my body. I thought you wouldn´t be pleased to see me running around half-naked in your flat. Thank God it is oversized."

Her eyes were locked to his appearance, the bathrobe ended right under his knees, belt was bent loose around his waist, the v-neck was showing his chest. Molly could not tell when she had last seen something that was so sexy and cute at the same time. She closed her eyes and then turned away, back to the coffee-machine.

Sherlock yawned a late "good morning" and then placed himself on the seat, Molly was used to sit on but she did not complain. She did not even raise her eyebrow.

15 Minutes later they were sitting together at Molly´s kitchen-table, eating eggs up-side-down and toast with marmalade and drinking coffee. Molly with milk, Sherlock black with two sugars- just as always.

"You were wrong, you know", Molly grinned between two nips from her cup.

"Excuse me?", Sherlock replied with a confused expression on his face.

"You deduced something wrong, yesterday. I don´t speak German. I just think Goethe is a really interesting person to read about."

The detective smiled. "See? I do not know everything about you by looking in your face for only one second. That is what you were wrong about. This is what I like about you. I can always discover something new. You are a bit of a riddle to me. Every time I think I really know you now you surprise me and prove me wrong."

She blushed immediately but knew to cover this by taking one more nip from her cup of coffee. She had ever been susceptible to compliments made by good-looking men- which girl was not?- but everything changed its intensity when it came to Sherlock Holmes and his usually so sociopathic behaviour. She could hardly handle her feelings, when she was in the morgue with him and then she could at least hide behind her professionalism and her working-routine but having him in her flat, sitting in her kitchen-table was something completely different.

When she had first met him she had been impressed by his intelligence but also skeptical concerning his loss of social abilities. Then he had started to ask her for favours such as letting him into the morgue in the middle of the night to use her lab equipment or have a look at some of the corpses. The longer they spent time working together the more she fell for his mind and started to forgive him for all his inadequacies. She fell in love with him slowly, first unnoticed even by herself and when she finally discovered her feelings she had not a single clue how to deal with them. Sherlock had ever been the most untouchable person in the world Molly had ever known. She had tried to make him aware of her as a grown-up woman and not only as a colleague -Molly had to admit that they had been less than that all the time. And then there had been this one day he had come to her in the morgue and had really needed help. Her help.

_"I think I am going to die"_ Molly will never forget how her heart dropped down as if someone had ripped it out of her chest and had thrown it on the floor when these few words had come out of the detectives mouth. Even now Molly was not able to explain how she then helped him to fake his own death. She had been to confused that night, too caught in her a shock to do anything else than the things Sherlock told her to do. Everything she could tell was that she had done a good job. Only but most important proof was Sherlock himself sitting in front of her and drinking coffee. Molly did not really know how to cope with her feelings now that she was one of the only persons he could go to with his problems. Perhaps she could even call herself the only person he could go to because although their relationship had improved Sherlock would not got to Mycroft for help. Molly wondered if he could ever do.

Maybe it would be the best for her to give up hope and to start seeing nothing but a good friend in the man who was now wearing her bathrobe. She would definitely be happier and would perhaps find someone to spend the rest of her life with but in this case a really big part of her life would be missing. She had learned so much working with Sherlock-about her profession, about herself and about tolerance and consideration. Without meeting Sherlock and always trying to gain his appreciation Molly Hooper would not be the same. She owed him so much and that was what made it so hard for her to forget about her feelings. He had helped her to grow up somehow. To compensate all the nasty things he had always said to her she had come up with so many things she liked about herself so he could not destroy her self-esteem.

They finished breakfast in silence, sharing some shy looks. Molly did not want Sherlock to read in her eyes and the black-haired was obviously not really aware of how to act in such a situation. He had never had many people he had to socialize with. All his skills on this field he knew from John.

"Well, then", said Molly, standing up from the table. "I need to go to Tesco so if you need something just tell me okay? I´m in the bathroom, changing."

"Mm-Hmm" was the only answer. Sherlock tipped against his lips with the tips of his fingers, hands put against each other. He seemed as if he were somewhere else. Molly looked at him with a silent sigh. She wished she could just look into Sherlock Holmes´ head to see what he was thinking about, to understand him in all his eccentric behaviour. He was so far away, more untouchable than ever before since he faked his own death and said goodbye to literally everything he had always loved.

Molly forced herself to turn away from the sight of this man. It was like the more she had the feeling of not knowing anything about him the more she was attracted to him. Molly went into the sleeping-room first to get her clothes. The moment she opened the door, she could sense Sherlock´s odour in every little part of the air. She nearly forgot to breathe as her whole body tensed up. She could have smelt him before, when they were sitting at the table but it was something totally different to be here, in this room where the most obvious proof of his sleepover in her bed lingered in every little corner.

Molly crossed the room in a hurry, grapping the first clothes she could get hold of out of her wardrobe. It was no real confusion that she felt but a certain loss of confidence she had always felt in her own flat. This had been the place where she could rest and let all the bad things that had happened to her during a hard day just flow away. She had cried over every mean word Sherlock had said to her and had grinned like a teenager on every smile she had received from him in her bed and yesterday she had just let the man that caused most of the trouble in her life take over her last safe place. She knew that he had never planned this and would have never done this on purpose no matter how indifferent he could be sometimes. She had always felt like Sherlock respected her in some way even if he could not show. However, it made her insecure, forced her to take deep breaths and to calm herself down. She was fine, totally fine and there was no [i]real[/i] problem. She was not sixteen anymore. She was a grown-up woman who had her self-confidence and her pride. She would not let Sherlock destroy this now.

Molly rushed into the bathroom, trying not to look at Sherlock and it worked. She could keep a clear mind and she was thankful for this. She took of her nightie and dressed properly, brushed her teeth and her hair and then stepped outside again. Sherlock hadn´t moved in any way. Maybe he had changed the newspaper-page but she could not tell it from her position.

Molly slipped into her shoes and her jacket. The moment she grabbed her wallet, life came into Sherlock. "Buy me a toothbrush, Molly."

"A Toothbrush?

"Yes?"

"But...why?"

"I will have to brush my teeth, don´t I? Or do you want me to stay like this the whole day? I can´t leave until it gets dark because it is too dangerous. One of Moriarty´s henchmen could see me and this would mean my detection...and your death. It´s the same if you would just pop into my flat and bring mine so I say that this is the only possibility that´s left. No go shopping, I need to think."

Molly took her keys and then nearly stumbled out of her flat. She closed the door behind her, a bit louder than it had been necessary. Had he just thrown her out of her own flat? She could not believe it but she had given in without even complaining. Now she stood there, facing the wooden pattern of her flat-door and asking herself how much she could acquiesce in. 'Well done, Molly, well done', she thought, shaking her head on herself. 'Strong and confident, pah' She had sworn to herself that she would not let Sherlock put her down on every occasion but now here she was, letting the consulting-detective push her around as he liked. She shrugged her shoulders. She would complain later, now she had things to do and she did not want to just stay here doing nothing but thinking about all the bad things Sherlock had done again unintentionally.


	3. I walk alone

**I walk alone**

**Every step I take**

**I walk alone**

**My winter storm**

**Holding me awake**

**It's never gone**

**When I walk alone**

I walk alone-Tarja Turunen

The last week had not really been easy for Molly. Even if Sherlock had left the day after his sleepover and had not got in touch with her again, it still stressed her. She could think of nothing else than him sleeping in her bed. Maybe the fact that he had not shown up again was more a problem than it was a relief because she now felt kind of exploited and thrown away after she had done what he had wanted her to do.

Then again, what had she expected him to do? Had she really expected him to act differently towards her because she had helped him to fake his death? Because this was really foolish and absolutely empty. She looked down at the corpse in front of her and took some scissors to cut open the clothes of the middle-aged woman. She probably had died from poisoning but she could not be absolutely sure yet. There were some characteristic bruises around her mouth and on her neck. However, this was not enough to prove a point. Nothing could prevent Molly from the necessity to cut her open as well.

One and a half hour later Molly washed her hands under the water jet in the laboratory sink. It might sound disgusting to anyone else but she really felt more relaxed after the autopsy. Due to her absolute concentration on the progress she just never had the time to think about anything that stressed her. Otherwise it would have even been hamper for her job. One wrong cut and important evidence could be destroyed. Greg would not be happy about it since the body was a main proof in his newest case. It was unbelievable that he had even been allowed to continue working as a DI or even with the police in general. After Sherlock had admitted that he had been nothing but a fake, that he had lied to everyone around him, even to John and Mrs Hudson the discussion had been immense but not really controversial.

DI Greg Lestrade had given him access to so many cases, to so much confidential information that he had to be punished for that in one way or the other. The only thing that had saved him from being suspended completely was that he nonetheless was a very talented Detective. He had solved many cases on his own and the London Police could not afford losing him. So he had only been degraded and that had been worse enough. She might have dated Greg once or twice-well, more like 5 times- in the last 4 months. It had all been absolutely harmless, a diner at a restaurant, a thoughtful walk along the Themes. It had almost broken her heart to see how much he was suffering under the circumstances. He did not want to believe that Sherlock had been a liar but he could not find any evidence that was strong enough to prove the consulting detective wrong. He had admitted it so it must be true. Sometimes Molly could not even cope with knowing about Sherlock, that he was alive, that Moriarty had been real. However, Greg had distracted her from all her dark thoughts in the moments where he had not been riven by grief and self-loathing. He just could never chase away the image of Sherlock on her head long enough. The detective would always come back to her mind, hunting her in her daydreams as well as in her nightmares.

Greg and Molly would never be a couple, they did not even attend to become one. There were just two stranded people with no way out of their misery. They had found themselves in times of struggle and agony and they clung to each other like a drowning person would cling to a rock in the churning sea. They were constantly lying to each other when they said they felt fine but they knew so it was okay.

Her phone rang and Molly dried her hands with a towel before she picked it up to find, that Greg had messaged her just in this moment.

_I know that you´re working right now but I thought you would like to be informed that the divorce is official now. Jen and I won´t be married for much longer. Please call me as soon as possible.-Greg._

Molly starred at the small screen of her mobile phone for about two minutes. The feelings were overhelming because no matter how careless this text sounded she knew that his heart must be torn apart. She had never talked to anyone about meeting Greg Lestrade because she knew that it would have only provoked rumors. Her love for Sherlock was no secret and if she was now caught dating the man he had exploited this could turn the scale to Greg being fired irrevocably. She struggled very much thinking this way but she had to if she wanted to understand what here actions might cause.

Molly took a deep breath, put her phone back into her trousers pocket and left the morgue after she had covered the body of the dead woman again. One of the assistants would pop in later to bring her back into the fridge. She signed the autopsy as done on the general paper and put on her jacket.

The very moment she left the hospital she dialed Greg. She waited, let the phone ring. After five rings he picked up.

"Hi, Molly. Thank you for calling." His voice was husky like he had cried. At first she did not knew what she should say. She could not even imagine how he must feel. Of course she had experienced a broken heart more than once in her life but this was nothing compared to losing the wife you had loved for almost your entire life without even being able to do something against it. It had not even been a violent separation. She was not dead or something she had just decided that she did not want to live with Greg anymore. Thanks to God they did not have children.

"Would you like to come over?" She asked.

"I don´t want to intrude."

"You´re not intruding. By the way, I still got some pork steak of yesterday´s diner. Petra wanted to come but then she did not and now I am here with all this meat and I don´t know where to put it. Maybe your mouth´s the right place for it." Wow, that sounded weird. But she would not start to stumble an excuse. Her relation with Greg was really relaxed and amicably. With him she did not feel the need to seem perfect or to assimilate her way of speaking to his in any way. That was one of the problems she always had dealing with Sherlock. He made her feel like an idiot whereas Greg made her feel like a wanted and admired person.

"It´s okay, Molly. You don´t need to convince me. Consider me at your flat in an hour."

"Fine, see you, then."

"Yes, see you."


	4. When everything is meant to be broken

**And I don't want the world to see me**

**'Cause I don't think that they'd understand**

**When everything's meant to be broken**

**I just want you to know who I am**

Iris-the Goo Goo Dolls

Molly said goodbye to Greg at the door of her flat. They had eaten together, then they had opened a bottle of wine and had talked and talked a lot. It was almost too late to let him go home now but he had promised to take a cab so Molly was hardly concerned about his well-being. Furthermore she would not invite him to stay over. She never would. That was not the kind of relationship they had. People tend to say that a man and a woman can not be friends without at least a slight undertone of sexual tension. Molly thought this to be an excuse of those people who just could not admit their feelings to themselves and to others. She had never had problems with just being friendly with Greg or with John and they both were much easier to get along with than Sherlock. But it was always Sherlock and it would always be him, no matter how hurting it could be. She had experienced that he needed some help sometimes, without questions and complaints. If he needed her to be the person to guarantee that she would be it with all her heart.

One day later Sherlock called. He CALLED. He did not text her like he usually did and it made Molly´s hurt jump for a moment. Then she stared at the display of her mobile phone, undecided about what to do. She took a deep breath and then answered the call. She should just try to be relaxed like she had been when Greg had come over for dinner yesterday. Maybe she should just pretend it was him who was calling.

"Hi, Sherlock. What is it and why are you not texting?"

"Because I don´t have my hands free and there is no-one to text for me. It´s obvious."

"Yes, pretty obvious." Molly had given up on contradicting and asking him to explain himself long ago just about the same time she had fallen in love with him. She could picture him perfectly, sitting in front of his desk, maybe using a microscope. Everything would be chaotic and nobody but him would ever be able to see any kind of order or organization in it. Molly had been to 221b in its natural state once after Sherlock´s §death". She had been there to talk with John and everything had been like the consulting detective had left it. Neither John nor Mrs Hudson had been able to bear putting his things away- besides the body-parts in the fridge or at least Molly was nearly sure about this point. John had asked her for this conversation but somehow they had not spoken very much. They had both been damaged people, left alone and heart-broken. Even if her feelings had had another cause than John´s it had been enough to just be with each other and to share some precious moments of silent understanding.

"However" said Sherlock and thereby cut off her train of thoughts "I need you to go to St Bart´s and bring me new eye-balls."

"Wha..."

"I´ve started and experiment and now I´ve noticed that I haven´t got enough eyes." He said it like it was the most normal thing in life and that nearly made Molly laugh in a hysterical way.

"You´ve been to St Bart´s without telling me?"

"Any problem with that?" His voice sounded genuinely surprised but still typically cold. What had she expected him to say?

"Yes. Well...no. It´s just... you could have told me. I could have taken them away without putting you in harm´s way."

"Is this concern in your voice?

"That´not important. They could have seen you. It´s dangerous and I... I don´t want you to get hurt."

"People see but they don´t observe. I never was in any danger"

"Sherlock!" Now Molly definitely sounded concerned. She knew that she could never convince him to be more careful allthough she wished she could with all her heart. If Sherlock had noticed the change in her voice he ignored it.

"So, can you do this for me? I really need them."

Molly was quiet for a while. She really wanted to say no, she wanted to be true to her profession as a pathologist and the morals that were connected to it. However, when it came to Sherlock she would never be able to refuse him. He did not even need to compliment her. It had been his preferred tactic to make her do something but after his faked death the brown-haired woman was keen to help him in any way possible because she saw how broken he was. He always pretended to be perfectly fine but Molly sensed how much he missed his old life, how much he missed John. Comforting the consulting detective was anything but easy and if stealing body-parts out of the morgue helped him she was not in the constitution to deny his request.

"Yes, I can do that." she sighed. "Just give me a bit of time."

"Hurry" And then he just ended the phone-call and let Molly alone with the piercing engaged signal that felt like someone cut her heart in thousand pieces with a blunt knife. He could have said thank you at least.

"Just put the box over there." Sherlock waved with his hand and vaguely pointed at some free space on the desk he sat at and that was over and over filled with newspapers, books and some messy drawn doodles that looked like the groundplan of a mansion. Molly did not ask what was going on and what he was investing in. Even if she had wanted to the lump in her throat made it impossible for her to speak. He had not even greeted her when she had come in but had directly returned to his desk. She swallowed and then cleared her throat.

"I was...I was wondering if you would like to have a drink...with me...later."Her voice became thinner and thinner as she talked. Molly had said this sentence in her mind a hundred times and then a hundred more before. Sherlock looked at her like she had told him she was an alien from another planet. The tension that held her whole body in its claws was nearly strong enough to break her down but then his face softened a bit and Molly silently sighed out of relief.

"We can..." he started awkwardly as though he did not know how to react. Molly was certain that he really did not. "not do this" he then continued a lot faster. "I won´t risk it to be seen with you. I don´t want you to get harmed. You´ve done too much for me to put you into harm´s way. However, you can make yourself a coffee if you´d like."

Molly swallowed and asked herself if that day he had come into St Bart´s to plead her company had been a one-time-occasion that was never going to come back again. He seemed to be all Sherlock again. Somehow he had changed a lot after his fall but at the same time he had stayed the same. Sometimes she wondered how she found the strength to cope. Handling him had been difficult enough when she had met him and during all the time they had worked together-if you could call it that. Her behaviour was self-destructive and she knew that. However, she could not stop and would never stop to stand by Sherlock´s side. Whatever may come. He was a genius and his life was way more important than hers. She was just an unimportant pathologist who did stupid things and endangered the world. Has it not been her who had introduced Jim Moriarty to the consulting detective? Has it not been her who had put the Napoleon of crime in touch with the only person who was clever enough to even trick death itself? She had to pull herself together now. Self-loathing was not how she could stand through all of this.

"Do you want a coffee, too?"

"Yes, black..."

"...with two sugars" Molly interrupted him with a light voice and Sherlock smiled a bit. Well, he more precisely raised the right corner of his mouth but it was enough to make Molly´s cheeks blush a bit. Even the littlest sign of compassion was enough for the woman who had given up her own good for the well-being of a man so much brighter and worthier than she would ever be. She turned away and walked into the kitchen without one more word. She had enough things lying on her lips, desperate to be spoken but Molly knew that anything she could do or say in this particular situation would make everything far too complicated. She had to hold herself back. Sherlock was the priority number one because who knew how he would react now if he got angry or impatient or close to any other similar emotion. He tended to say that he did not feel like normal people do but the latest events had shown that this was not quite true. He was rather over-sensitive about things and problems and he might over-react. Molly was almost certain he would.


End file.
